


call me maybe

by swallowsmateforlife



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Hate Crimes, Homophobic Language, Late Night Conversations, M/M, New Friendships, Potential violence, Wrong number
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-11 00:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7014733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swallowsmateforlife/pseuds/swallowsmateforlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A middle-of-the-night walk home, a possible mugging, and a wrongly dialed phone number are the recipe for something beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	call me maybe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [niallsdancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niallsdancer/gifts).



> To my recipient - thank you for being so accommodating in providing me additional prompts to work with when I was struggling during the first round. I hope you think this is sweet.
> 
> A note on the 'potential violence', 'homophobic slurs', and 'hate crimes' tags - I have used these tags as a precaution. No violence ever occurs, but it is discussed. The use of homophobic slurs does occur, however.

It’s late when Harry finally stumbles out of the night club, giggling and hanging on to Grimmy as they head down the sidewalk together.

“Are you sure you don’t want to split a taxi?” Grimmy asks as he steadies Harry. Harry is as graceful as a baby deer on the best of days but with a few drinks in him he’s worse; a mess of long legs and heeled boots and pigeon toes, but it always seems to be charmingly endearing when it comes to Harry.

“No, mate, I’m good. I don’t live far. I’ll walk,” Harry tells Grimmy. Harry’s cheeks are flushed with the rosiness of alcohol and he’s a little bit more giggly than is typical for him but he knows he can make it home just fine. He’s made this walk plenty of times, from this very club. It’s nine or ten blocks at best and he’ll be alright. Grimmy worries too much. “You worry too much,” he decides to tell Grimmy before pulling himself away from Grimmy’s steady arms. 

“You nearly fell out of our booth in there because you’d sat on your foot and couldn’t untangle your legs fast enough in order to stand,” Grimmy says with a delightful laugh rising into the darkness above them. 

Harry barks a laugh, masks it behind his hand over his mouth,before pulling himself together again.

“I’m fine, I promise. Go home,” Harry says as he gives Grimmy’s chest a playful shove before taking a few steps back from him. He lives in the opposite direction and Grimmy is next in the taxi queue. He’d best get going.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow then,” Grimmy says, offering a wave as he slips into the back of a car. He drives off in an instant and Harry is still laughing to himself as he turns to head down the sidewalk, heels of his boots  _ click - click - click _ ing, the sound reverberating off the empty streets and the tall concrete buildings around him.

It had been a good night, all in all. Harry always has a good time going out with Grimmy and their friends, and tonight had been no different. Harry had danced with Alexa and giggled with Pixie in their booth and had flirted with an older man at the bar in order to get a free drink or three. He’d had no intentions of going home with the man but Harry wasn’t a stranger to blinking his big, green doe eyes sweetly and pouting out his pretty lips if it meant free alcohol.

Perhaps he had been a bit of a tease but he isn’t too fussed about it. 

Harry smiles to himself as he walks down the street and thinks about his plans for the weekend. He’s got nothing on tomorrow and is mostly looking forward to a Saturday of lounging around with his flatmate, Niall, and binging saved episodes of Bake Off. Things could definitely be worse.

It’s as he’s crossing the street that he takes note of two blokes stepping out of the alleyway he’s just passed. Harry isn’t sure what it is in particular that sends his senses into overdrive, but he can’t help but feel a prickle at the back of his neck and he frowns as pulls his sleeves down over his hands. There shouldn’t be anything strange about a couple of rather large blokes walking down the street but given the late hour - it’s nearly morning, really - and the way he hears one of them laugh behind him something, some kind of strange sixth-sense kind of feeling, tells Harry this might not be as innocent as a late-night stroll.

He takes longer strides and glances at the street sign on the corner to judge how long until he’ll make it home. Another seven blocks. The hairs on Harry’s arms stand up.

Harry crosses the street onto the next block and wants badly to shoulder-check but doesn’t it want to be too terribly obvious that he’s nervous. The two men have been half a block behind him for the last block and a half now and turned the same corner he did. Harry is not prepared at all to be mugged tonight. He doesn’t have much of value on him but the threat of actual violence is mostly what scares him.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Harry swipes the screen to life and taps the ‘phone’ icon. His hands are shaking as he tries to tap in Niall’s number, but when it connects he lifts the phone to his ear and listens to the ring.

“Pick up, pick up,” Harry murmurs to himself, quietly and under his breath as he takes his strides a little faster. Regardless, the two blokes stay the same distance behind him, which means they’re picking up the pace too.

“‘Lo?” A sleepy voice asks and Harry doesn’t think it sounds much like Niall but it is the middle of the night, afterall. He was probably asleep.

“Niall, hey,” Harry says, tries to keep his voice steady and quiet in order to not give his nerves away. “Can you come meet me? I’m just coming up on Margo’s Flowers. Please come meet me,” he asks, knowing Niall will know precisely where Harry is. They both walk past the flower shop every morning to get to the tube.

There’s silence on the other end of the line and Harry frowns. Niall would know the urgency in Harry’s voice. He’d pick up on it immediately.

“Sorry, mate,” the male voice says, and it’s soft and gentle and not Niall at all. “Wrong number,” he tells Harry and Harry’s heart drops. He must have dialed wrong when his hands were shaking; must have slipped up on a number.

“Please don’t hang up,” Harry says in a rush, hardly above a whisper lest the blokes behind him have supersonic hearing. “Sorry, I meant to call my flatmate to come meet me. I really think I’m about to be mugged,” he all but whispers. Four blocks to go.

“What’s your name?” The voice asks. Harry can hear shuffling and it sounds like bedsheets. He’s woken this poor bloke up in the middle of the night and he feels terrible along with nervous.

“It’s Harry,” he tells the man. 

Behind him, one of the men speaks; voice deep and rough and eerily amused.

“Look at this poof in a hurry,” he says and Harry cringes at the slur. Perhaps this is intended to be more than a mugging.

“My name’s Harry,” he says again. “There’s two men following me and one just called me a poof. I’m a few blocks from my flat but I’m either going to run now and risk them charging, or I’m going to get caught anyway. I can’t take them both. Fuck, I just wanted my flatmate to come down here and walk back with me,” Harry tells the man listening on the other end of the line. His heart is racing in his chest now, hand holding the phone shaking.

“You said Margo’s Flowers?” The soft voice asks. His voice is so lovely, a hint of a northern accent and Harry isn’t sure what it is about this stranger that makes him feel so trusting already, but there’s something in the softness of his voice that makes Harry want to hear him speak forever.

“Just passed it,” Harry tells him. 

“You’ve got some crazy fuckin’ luck in dialing the wrong number but you’re closer to my flat than yours. There’s a Starbucks on that corner coming up. Take a right there,” the man’s sweet voice tells him. “I live in the brick building about halfway down the street. I’m coming down right now to let you in. You can come inside and call your mate.”

“What’s your name?” Harry asks in lieu of a thank you. He’s too keyed up, too afraid as he takes a hard right turn on the sidewalk when he sees the Starbucks, just as the other man behind him yells out something about poofs like him getting what’s coming to them.

“Louis,” the man says. Louis. Soft, sweet, and lovely as the voice that belongs to him. 

“I’m almost there, Louis,” Harry tells him. He sees the door to the building push open, sees a face peek out into the dark street and Harry takes a chance and breaks into a run. His boots aren’t meant for this at all but he doesn’t care, nearly slips on the pavement as he darts up the few steps and inside the building where a man stands in the foyer, phone pressed to his ear as the door clicks shut and locks behind Harry automatically. 

“Come on,” Louis says, as they both hang up their phones. “I’m on the second floor,” he tells Harry. He wastes no time in circling his fingers around Harry’s wrist and pulling him to the stairs. Harry’s sobered up due to the adrenaline flowing through his veins and he finds himself surprisingly agile as he climbs up the flight of stairs with Louis. 

They don’t exchange any words as Louis pushes the door to his flat open and pulls Harry inside before closing and locking the door behind them. Harry stands in the entryway, unsure of what to do as Louis darts across the room to the window in the living room where he peers down to the street.

“Two blokes in jumpers?” Louis asks, looking back over his shoulder at Harry. Harry nods his head, struggling to find his voice. “They crossed over to the other side of the street. They’re still walking. Doesn’t look like they’re sticking around,” Louis tells him before he comes back away from the window.

Harry’s heart is still racing in his chest. He knows he’s trembling and struggling to find his words but there is the added pressure of being faced with what might be the prettiest boy he’s ever seen in his life. 

Harry’s knight in shining armour is  _ stunning  _ and he doesn’t know how to process the way his night has turned out.

“Harry?” Louis asks tentatively as he takes another step closer to Harry. He is so very pretty, with soft-looking, feathery, brown hair, and big, blue eyes. He’s smaller than Harry but he looks strong, solid, thick. He’s gorgeous. 

“Sorry,” Harry says, mortified at the way his throat tightens on a sob. He fights to swallow it down but of course, with the way his night is going, the precise opposite happens and he chokes as hot tears spill from his eyes.

“Hey, hey,” Louis says, practically cooing as he steps up and curls his arms around Harry’s shoulders. He’s smaller than Harry and Harry feels big and pathetic in the way he practically crumbles against Louis’ chest, crying into the soft cotton of his red t-shirt. 

Harry hates that he’s crying in front of a stranger but he can’t seem to help himself; the fear, adrenaline and now the relief of feeling safe are overwhelming him all at once and it’s a few minutes of Louis’ small hands rubbing his back before Harry is able to pull himself away to wipe his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Harry tells him as he takes a slow breath. “I can’t believe this. I don’t even know what this night is anymore,” he says as he pushes his hair back from his face. “I could have misdialed and been totally fucked. I never would have made it to my flat before they came at me. I don’t know how I got so lucky to get you on the other end of the line.”

“It’s okay, I promise,” Louis tells him, concern in his pretty blue eyes as he looks up at Harry. His hands are still holding onto Harry’s shoulders, steadying him and making sure he’s okay. “Let me get you some water,” he says before he pulls away and steps into the kitchen.

Harry takes the opportunity to take a few slow breaths to re-compose himself. He feels warm and as if his cheeks are blotchy from his tears. He’s embarrassed and grateful all in one. Louis could have been anyone. Harry can’t believe his luck in dialing someone who lives so close. The chances are practically non-existent and yet he’d lucked out.

“Here,” Louis says as he holds out the glass of water to Harry. It’s cold in his hand and refreshing in his throat when he takes a long drink. He’s so tired. The drinking, the adrenaline, and the emotional release have all added up to a perfect recipe for exhaustion.

“Thank you,” Harry says as he lowers the glass from his lips. “God, that was just a lot. I’ve taken that walk home hundreds of times. I don’t know what just happened. They came out of the alley I passed and I could hear them laughing. One of them called me a poof. He said people like me get what’s coming to them. I don’t think I’m very obvious but I guess they could tell,” he frowns. Harry hasn’t heard about many hate crimes against gay people lately - the world is getting better and better - but he’s sure all it takes is being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“If you’re obvious, I must be a beacon of shining gayness,” Louis tells him and Harry can’t help the smile that breaks on his face. He suspects that was Louis’ goal. “You’re lovely, mate, but I’ve got swively hips and more camp than the drama department at my school knows what to do with,” he says, cracking a smile of his own and Harry laughs lightly.

“I hope no one gives you any shit,” Harry says as he looks at Louis. He really is very pretty, and small, and curvy, and Harry feels very fortunate to have wound up here tonight.

“My bark is worse than their bite,” Louis laughs with a devious little smirk on his lips. “Come on. Come sit down. You can call your mate or whatever, but it’s no fun standing here in the foyer,” he says as he leads Harry off to the living room and sits them down on the sofa together.

“Thanks, again,” Harry says as he gets his phone out of his pocket. He’s careful in the way he types in Niall’s number and brings the phone to his ear again. Louis watches him quietly from across the sofa. He’s wearing the red t-shirt Harry had cried all over and grey joggers and he looks soft and cuddly and warm. Harry doesn’t want to but he forces himself to look away anyway.

Niall’s voicemail answers instead of the real Niall.

“Fuck. Voicemail,” Harry says with a small frown. It’s okay. He’s a grown man and the blokes that had been following him had continued on their way. It was a random occurrence and Harry can walk the four blocks to his flat from here. He doesn’t need Niall to come hold his hand to get home. He’s safe now.

“You can try him again in a few minutes,” Louis offers. Harry leans forward to set the half-empty glass of water still in his hand onto the coffee table. He feels terrible about barging into Louis’ life like this in the middle of the night.

“I can just go,” Harry says, glancing back at Louis. “They’re long gone by now and it’s only a few blocks,” he offers, even as his heart beats a little harder in his chest.

“Do you want to stay?” Louis asks softly, eyeing Harry carefully. Harry raises his eyebrows and meets Louis’ gaze.

“Sorry?” He asks, a little shocked. Who is this man? This soft, sweet, kind, beautiful man who answered the phone in the middle of the night and took a chance on helping a stranger.

“It’s nearly half four,” Louis says with a shrug. “I reckon the sun will be up in, what? Two hours? You might as well just stay and walk home then. I think you’d feel better walking back in the daylight than right now, even if it sounds silly,” he offers and Harry doesn’t know what he’s done to receive such good karma but he wants to thank all the gods he can think of for Louis answering the phone tonight.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks. “I can’t believe what you’ve done for me already. You must want to get back to bed. I’ve overstayed already. You don’t even know me,” Harry says, incredulous.

“Mate, it’s fine,” Louis says. “I’ve got nothing to do tomorrow but sleep in and order pizza for lunch. What’s two hours with a cute boy on my sofa?”

“Excuse you,” Harry says, unable to help the laugh he lets out. “Are you trying to take advantage of my vulnerable emotional state right now?” He asks, teasing Louis but feeling his curiosity perk up regardless. 

“Not trying to take advantage, no,” Louis says quietly, ducking his gaze for a moment. “Being honest in the hopes of making you smile again… maybe.”

Harry does smile.

“If you’re sure it’s no trouble,” Harry nods, shrugging gently. 

“It’s no trouble,” Louis affirms. “Kick your shoes off. We can put a film on or something,” he says as he leans over to grasp the remote control from the coffee table next to Harry’s half-drunk water glass.

The television comes to life as Louis presses a button, and Harry does what he’s told and unzips his boots to take them off and sets them neatly next to the table. His jeans are impossibly tight and the shirt he’s wearing is more sheer than not, but it’s all he’s got to work with for now. The sun will be up soon and he can wait it out.

~

Harry wakes up to sunlight spilling in through the living room window. The television is off and Harry’s got a terrible crick in his neck from falling asleep half sat up against the arm of the sofa. There’s a soft blanket with penguins on spread over him.

“Shit,” he curses as he moves gingerly to push himself up. His back hurts from falling asleep in a strange position and the button of his tight jeans is digging into his tummy in the worst way. Harry reaches for his phone sat on the coffee table.

It’s ten in the morning and Harry is a bit mortified that he’d fallen asleep and massively overstayed his welcome by nearly four hours.

The flat sounds oddly quiet and Harry wonders if Louis is asleep in his bedroom and if he should sneak out quietly so as not to cause Louis any more trouble. He should probably leave a note of thanks. Perhaps he can find a pen and paper in the kitchen. 

Harry stands from the sofa, arches to crack his back and groans softly at the satisfying pops down his spine. He reaches down to collect his boots and his phone so he can slip off to the kitchen to leave his goodbye note.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Comes Louis’ bright voice from the corner of the kitchen and Harry yelps in surprise, drops his boots to the floor with a  _ fwump.  _

“Shit, why didn’t you wake me?” Harry asks, staring at Louis sitting at the kitchen table. He’s wearing the same pajamas from last night and has his hand curled around a mug of, Harry guesses, tea. His laptop is open in front of him.

“You seemed like you needed it? You had a rough night, I just thought I’d let you sleep and leave when you wanted,” Louis explains, shrugging a bit. “I’m sorry? It’s no trouble for me that you stayed. I didn’t want to rush you out.”

Harry stares at Louis, both stunned and endeared by his kindness. 

“Um. Thanks for that, then,” Harry says. “I really should go. I appreciate everything so much, Louis, thank you,” he tells him and makes to collect his boots from the floor again.

“Do you want tea?” Louis asks him with a small smile. “The kettle is still hot, probably. I’d offer breakfast but I can’t cook worth a damn,” he laughs a little self-deprecatingly and shrugs.

“I’ve really overstayed my welcome,” Harry says, feeling like he’s imposed on Louis enough as it is.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I thought you had,” Louis says, simple and to the point, a small smile on his face. He’s impossibly pretty and Harry feels a little flutter low in his tummy as he looks at Louis. 

“A cup of tea couldn’t hurt,” Harry says, giving in and smiling as he steps back into the kitchen. He gets a mug down from the cupboard Louis directs him to and makes his tea before taking a seat across from Louis at the table.

“Are you okay after last night?” Louis asks him as he reaches to close his laptop lid. “I know I’d have been afraid too. I’m glad nothing happened to you,” Louis says quietly and cups his hands around his warm mug.

“I’m alright,” Harry nods, though a small frown finds its way to his face. “It’s fucked up, though, isn’t it? I don’t know what their deal was. I don’t know if they wanted to rob me, or if they really were intent on fucking with me because, I don’t know, I ‘seemed’ gay to them? Whatever that means,” he says, unable to shake the frown from his features.

“I’m glad we’ll never really know, hm? Any outcome would have been horrible and I’m really glad it was me you accidentally dialed,” Louis says as he takes a sip from his tea mug. “I don’t know how it happened that you got me. Maybe it was meant to be.”

Harry smiles just a little at that. Perhaps it is. Harry isn’t sure he believes in fate but something almost magical certainly happened last night and he’ll be forever grateful to whatever powers were at play. 

He learns that Louis is twenty-three and finishing up his degree in playwriting, that he’s got a million sisters at home and that Louis lights up when he talks about them. Harry learns about Louis’ love of football, his giant crush on David Beckham, and that Louis’ last boyfriend broke his heart into a million little pieces and Louis’ been single for two years.

Harry hears all about Louis’ flatmate, Liam, and how he’s off in Wolverhampton this weekend for his sister’s engagement party. Louis lights up when he talks about Liam like he does when he talks about his sisters, and it makes Harry feel warm inside to see Louis talk about the people he clearly loves so deeply.

Harry finds himself wondering what it must be like to be loved by Louis.

Wonderful, he supposes.

In turn Harry tells Louis about his sister, Gemma, and how she’s dead clever but always holds the big sister card over his head. He tells Louis about growing up in Cheshire and how he used to be a baker before moving off to Manchester for uni. Harry shares all about how he’s majoring in environmental sciences but all he really wants to do is start an animal sanctuary out in Cheshire and take in all the neglected, unloved animals he can find.

Louis gets all soft as he listens to Harry and Harry feels a little shy under Louis’ gaze.

His tea has gone cold by the time there’s a lull in the conversation and it’s near lunch time when he checks his phone again. He doesn’t know how this keeps happening but spending time with this boy, who was a stranger only hours ago, makes Harry feel like time doesn’t exist.

His tummy grumbles.

“Do you still want to order that pizza?” Harry asks Louis, remembering the conversation from last night. “I’ll buy if you do. As a thank you for everything,” he says and feels delightfully pleased with himself at the way Louis smiles at him.

“That’s ace, yeah,” Louis says as he shifts to get up from his chair to go dig around in one of his kitchen drawers. “We’ve got a few menus in here,” he explains as Harry watches him.

“Order whatever you like,” Harry offers. It’s the least he can do to thank Louis for last night.

“If you’re staying, do you want something comfortable to wear? I can steal a pair of Liam’s joggers for you, he’s taller than me,” Louis offers as he pulls out a menu from the drawer. 

Harry glances down at himself, taking in his clothes from the night before. Nightclub clothes. Tight, tight jeans that are definitely uncomfortable having slept in them, and his mostly-sheer button-down shirt that is really not appropriate for Saturday afternoon pizza.

“If it’s not too much trouble, sure,” Harry says. “You’ve done so much for me as it is,” he tells Louis.

“You’re nice,” Louis shrugs as he sets the menu on the table top. “Last night was weird, but it is what it is. Maybe we’re friends now,” he says with a coy little grin. 

Harry laughs a little at that and gives a gentle nod. It’s been a weird few hours and Harry isn’t sure what his life is at the moment but he is grateful for this sweet, beautiful boy who seems to be taking care of him in more ways he could ever repay Louis for.

“I think we must be,” Harry says.

“Sit tight, I’ll get you something,” Louis says before he disappears down the hall.

Harry takes the moment alone to fire off a text to Niall explaining that he’s spent the night with a friend and he’ll be home later in the day. This is really going to be some story he’ll have to share and he knows Niall will love every bit of it.

When Louis returns he’s got a smile on and his own phone in his hand.

“I set a pair of joggers and a t-shirt in the loo for you,” Louis says as he picks up the pizza menu. “I’ll order lunch, take your time.”

Harry thanks Louis before he slips off to the bathroom and closes the door behind himself. He strips out of his clothes, save his pants and socks, and groans happily at the feeling of being out of his jeans finally. He has a quick wee and washes his hands before splashing cool water on his face and drying himself off on the folded hand towel sat on the counter top. There’s a mess of hair products littering the counter and Harry can only guess they belong to Louis. Louis looks effortlessly beautiful, Harry thinks, but he’s got great hair and Harry wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Louis spends a lot of time on it.

When he’s finished pondering Louis’ hair-doing habits he steps into the soft, cozy joggers and pulls the white t-shirt over his head before he folds his own clothes neatly and leaves them sitting atop the laundry hamper to change back into when he leaves, eventually.

Pizza and comfy clothes with Louis this afternoon sound great for now, though. 

When he returns, Harry finds Louis back on the soft, feet kicked up on the coffee table. He’s slouched down in such a way that Harry can see a golden sliver of skin of Louis’ tummy where Louis’ t-shirt has bunched up. He’s tan everywhere Harry can see, and he can’t help but let his mind wonder whether Louis’ got tan lines or if he’s tan all over. Either option is equally as sexy.

Shit.

“All good?” Louis asks, looking up from where he’d been typing away on his phone. 

“Yeah, good,” Harry says, shaking himself from his tanline curiosity and sitting himself down with one foot tucked under himself. “Thanks for the joggers. They’re way more comfortable.”

“Not a problem,” Louis says before he sets his phone aside. “Pizza should be a half hour or so,” he adds as he looks over at Harry. 

They fall into a companionable silence as Louis flips through the television channels before settling on an old episode of Seinfeld. Saturday afternoon television doesn’t offer much excitement, but the way Louis’ fingertips brush against Harry’s knee when he settles his hand between them does. 

Harry bites his lower lip gently to hide his smile but he doesn’t succeed very well judging by the way he catches Louis smiling, too, out of the corner of his eye.

He’s only just been about to get up the courage to let his own fingers tease over Louis’ when the door buzzer rings into the flat and Louis pulls away to answer the door. 

Louis had been flirting with him a little bit last night and he’s been delightfully sweet to Harry today. The gentle touches were just as sweet and Harry can’t deny the little thrill he gets out of all of it. 

Harry has had his share of cheap one nighters; has brought boys home from the very night club he was at last night and fucked them before sending them on their way. He’s hooked up with boys in the locker room at his gym, and he’s gotten on his knees in a grubby toilet stall for a hot guy who took him out to dinner. He’s no stranger to sloppy blowjobs and messy hook-ups and quick fucks, like any young, good looking twenty-one year old but this tentative sweetness with Louis is something new and exciting and Harry doesn’t even feel the need to take it further.

He’s fucked strangers before learning their names and yet Louis makes Harry want to do this for the entire weekend. He wants to sit on the sofa and eat pizza and shyly tangle their fingers together when they watch a film and maybe cook dinner for Louis tonight and feed him bits of whatever he makes to get Louis’ opinion on the taste.

He’s known Louis for eight hours.

He wants to know Louis for a million more to come.

“This smells incredible,” Louis says once he’s returned with the pizza and sets the box down on the table. He lifts the lid open and sits himself back down on the sofa, much closer to Harry this time. His knee is pressed up against Harry’s and Harry can feel Louis’ warmth through the material of their joggers.

The pizza is delicious but the warmth of Louis pressed up close to him is better.

“You’ve got a bit of sauce,” Louis starts, shifting to face Harry this time. “Just there,” he tells Harry as he reaches out to brush his fingertip along the corner of Harry’s mouth.

Harry resists the urge to flick his tongue out and lets Louis clean him up instead. 

“Did you get it?” He asks, hardly a whisper. The room feels small, suddenly, and all Harry can see is the blue, blue,  _ blue  _ of Louis’ eyes.

“Almost,” Louis whispers back as he drops his hand to rest atop Harry’s thigh. “If I just…” he trails off softly as he leans in closer.

“Just what?” Harry asks him, lips parted in anticipation. They’re practically nose to nose before Louis smiles and then closes the distance by pressing his lips softly to Harry’s. 

It’s one of the most chaste, innocent kisses Harry’s ever had and yet it sparks a flame up and down his spine as he leans into it.

“There,” Louis says through a smile as he sits back again. “It’s all gone,” he grins, full of mischief that wasn’t there a moment ago. Louis’ sweetness has dissipated into deviousness and Harry couldn’t be more delighted by it.

“You are a smooth bastard,” Harry says through an incredulous laugh as he relaxes back into the sofa. Louis just grins.

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t mind,” he shrugs and then pushes himself over to nudge Harry to lay out on the sofa. “I’m pretty sure this is going to be alright, too,” he says as he wiggles himself down between Harry and the back of the sofa and drapes an arm over Harry’s ribs. 

“This is definitely alright,” Harry agrees. He is a little bit flabbergasted at how a potential mugging last night has turned into him cuddling with a very pretty boy he didn’t know a handful of hours ago but Harry isn’t going to question the mysteries of the universe.

He’s going to cuddle this pretty boy and make him dinner and kiss him goodbye when he goes home tonight and marry him in four years and know him for the next million hours and thank the universe for its mysteries while Louis falls asleep against his shoulder.


End file.
